Barely Breathing
by Nausicaa Smith
Summary: Goten and Trunks get together.


**Barely Breathing**

"Hey Trunks? I gotta tell you something."

"Hn?"

Thus was the start of the conversation. Had Trunks known what he was in for he might have cried—or jumped—for joy, but as it were he had no clue what was coming. Probably, he thought, something goofy and trivial, as was typically Goten's style. Maybe he'd broken up with another in the long line of ditzy girlfriends. Maybe he'd eaten the last of Trunks' favorite cookies. Who knew? In any case, it would turn out to be nothing, as usual. That unnatural seriousness in Goten's tone meant he thought he'd done something wrong, Trunks was sure. But there was nothing, nothing in the whole world that this boy could do that was wrong. He was perfect, and anything he did was wonderful. Who cared about his stupid girlfriend? She didn't deserve him. And Trunks would buy him as many cookies as he could ever want.

"And I don't want you to be mad, but I think you will be."

So it _was_ the cookies.

"But there's nothing I can do about it, and if you don't want to be around me because of it I'll understand."

Huh? Trunks turned to face his companion. Goten was sitting on the foot of his bed still in his school clothes, hands in his lap, and he was looking at Trunks with something on his face that Trunks couldn't define…fear, maybe? What could cause Goten to ever be afraid of Trunks? And besides that—how could he think that Trunks could ever be angry with him? Goten was the most amazing person in the universe, and nothing he could ever say or do could ever make Trunks turn away from him. Trunks often wondered why sweet Goten wanted to spend his time with someone so antisocial and cold-hearted as himself.

"I can get my mom to pull me out of school so you won't have to see me anymore—she wants me home schooled anyhow—"

Goten was shaking, his voice trembling and he floundered as Trunks moved toward him—to touch his shoulder, to comfort him somehow—and he hopped off the bed and backed away.

"Chibi, what's wrong?" Trunks followed him, his frustration and concern rising. What could Goten think he had done?

"I'm gay." He said.

Pause.

Long, uncomfortable silence.

Trunks didn't even know how to respond to that. He couldn't just say, "Hey, me too!" and make it okay. (Well, he could, but he didn't think it would help.)

Goten spoke again: "I just had to tell you, 'cause I felt like I was lying to you for keeping it secret." He looked so scared, it was hurting Trunks' heart—"I ought to go."

He moved to leave out the window.

"Goten—" Trunks finally found himself. The object of his undying affection—with whom he might suddenly have a chance!—was trying to leave.

"Yeah?"

"This is your room."

"Well, you can't want me here after that so—"  
"Goten!"

"That's not all, either." Goten backed right up against the wall as Trunks came near him. He wouldn't meet Trunks gaze, and if he thought Trunks was going to hit him, he wasn't raising his hands to defend himself. Trunks, meanwhile, was sure this was just a dream. (If this was a dream, he could do whatever he wanted, right? He had almost made up his mind to kiss Goten when—)

"I think I'm in love with you."

Another long, uncomfortable silence. Again, Trunks couldn't quite decide how to respond to that. It wasn't possible. He wasn't worthy of this beautiful boy's affection. But if he _were_ what Goten wanted then he'd give himself merrily, gladly, joyfully, to make the younger boy happy. He'd give anything to see Goten smile; anything in the whole world for him to be happy. Right now, as he moved closer, he could see the fear—Goten couldn't be afraid of him! But he was—his lovely eyes were so dilated the iris was barely visible, his face pale, and tears were forming because of—what?

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry—" Goten was crying. Sobbing. And Trunks' heart was breaking—Goten had never done anything to be sorry for! "I tried so hard not to—and Trunks, I swear, I promise, I wouldn't ever do anything to you. I know you ain't like that and I swear I don't think about you or anything—you deserve so much better and I wouldn't_—mmfpt—"_

Goten had suddenly found it hard to form coherent speech with a mouthful of Trunks' tongue. His eyes widened and then squeezed shut and Trunks' arms were around him, hands gripping his clothes and his hair and supporting him when his knees gave way in his astonishment. That hot, sweet mouth over his was crushing to his lips and the tongue was tracing across—behind his teeth, along the inside of his bottom lip before sucking it inside—leaving him overjoyed and utterly compliant. It was a long time before Goten could respond because of the dawning realization that Trunks might just care for him as well—but Trunks broke off, holding him pinned up against the bedroom wall. Their flushed faces were only millimeters apart when Goten finally met his best friend's eyes, which were filled with wonder and a hint of anxiety.

"You'd better not have been fucking with me." he said petulantly, lips brushing against Goten's enticingly as he spoke.

"… Nope. But I might be in a few minutes."

There was no more talking after that. Trunks' hands worked down to Goten's bare skin and it was warm everywhere—and everything was so different, when in fact nothing had changed. It was as though the entire world had shifted around them, rearranging the universe but leaving it really the same as it was before. Nothing was unusual about this, this new and comfortable and frantic contact as normal as doing homework or sparring or playing a game. This was the way it should have been all along, and they'd never realized. They were left there in the radiant aftermath together with the world outside the window a million miles away; clutching at each other, laughing and crying and dizzy and so blissfully ecstatic that they were barely breathing at all.


End file.
